When my wife was alive, she wanted a putting-green lawn surrounded by pretty flowers. She would have donkey-stoned the step if we'd had one. Mind you. she had to ensure the clothes pegs were all the same colour. I'm not joking!
The front garden nowadays is a sort of mini allotment: an apple tree in the middle of the 'lawn' (i e, the grassy part - the lawn has been reduced to the size of a tablecloth). Potatoes, cabbages, lettuce, - whatever will fit, - in the borders; a compost bin in the corner and water-butts in front of the bedroom window. She would have been horrified. Potatoes in the front garden!? What will the neighbours think!?
We both came from an era in which what people thought of you was a big thing. My own mother would not even answer the door unless she had a clean 'pinny' on and her hair was tidy. I myself, as a teenager in the 60s, would never go out unless my hair was quiffed and my tie was straight. I would never have imagined that teenagers would be so lacking in self-respect that they would have nose-rings, wear torn jeans and look as scruffy as they do now.
But, I suppose I grew more tolerant of change and began to look at things differently. (aka 'grew old'). Nowadays, of course I still care about how I'm perceived: I would like to think that people would trust me, would invite me to their homes, be at ease in my company and so on . . . but I care less about it than I used to.
One of the bonuses of getting old is that people tend to make allowances. They make excuses for you. "Aw, he's getting on a bit now" or "He is (70/80/90), you know . . ." . Some of us play on it, smiling in the background ( they think I'm stupid, so I'll let 'em think so): mind you, there are times when I do things that are so stupid I surprise even myself. I've even forgot where I was going with this . . . Oh yes, gardening.
